


What She Doesn't Say

by CubbieGirl1723



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Fix-it fic, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Post-Season/Series 03, fix it jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 10:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17661014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CubbieGirl1723/pseuds/CubbieGirl1723
Summary: When Veronica looses track of Logan after Finals Week, she fears the worst.





	What She Doesn't Say

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Irma66! Fix-it fics and Veronica and Logan taking care of each other are my favorite, so that's what I came up with for you. Thanks for all your beta help! Have a wonderful day :)

Logan finishes his last final and heads back to his suite to collapse. He figures it’s just the stress of exams--and everything else that’s happened in his life lately--but he’s exhausted and achy all over. He probably failed the test he just took; he can barely remember what course it was, let alone any of the material. He walks to Dick’s car and all he can focus on is getting to his bed--those crisp, cool sheets--as the sun beats down on the back of his neck. He feels a trickle of sweat roll between his shoulder blades and opens the door to the car, sinking into the seat. 

Dick, in the process of moving out of their hotel suite and into the Pi Sig house, had asked Logan if they could swap cars for a few days since the Range Rover was better for hauling boxes. The arrangement has worked out fine thus far but he feels so out of it, he’s not sure he can navigate driving much of anything, let alone Dick’s Audi.

Logan’s lightheaded but maybe that’s because it’s so hot...or maybe because he doesn’t know when he last ate. He’s not hungry, though--nothing sounds good. Nothing besides his bed. Thankfully traffic is light and he makes it safely home to the Grand, stumbling from the parking garage to the elevator and straight up to his room where he strips down to his boxers and finally falls into bed.

_____

Logan wakes, hours later, or maybe days. He has no idea. It’s dark in his bedroom and he can’t exactly remember how he got there or discern what woke him up. He checks the time on his cell phone--11:15 pm--and notices several missed calls. But he can’t figure out how to return them, or come up with the motivation to do so. He can’t even make the swimming, fuzzy letters come into focus on the screen to figure out who they are from. He drops his phone on the bed beside him and falls back into oblivion. 

_____

The next time he surfaces, his phone is dead. He knows this because he can’t make the buttons work to check the time. He decides he doesn’t care because his body hurts all over and he can’t figure out if he is on fire or freezing. He alternates between shivering and sweating before he falls asleep again.

_____

It takes him a moment to realize that he is awake. He stares at the ceiling and hears a faint pounding but it’s probably his head, which sends him waves of pain everytime he tries to move it. He closes his eyes and vows never to move again.

_____

“Logan? Hey, Logan? Are you okay?”

He cracks his eyes open--ow--and closes them again quickly. He must be hallucinating, because he thinks he saw Veronica leaning over his bed just now. And she made it clear that of all places, he would never see her there again.

He feels small, cool hands on his head. He’s sure he smells Veronica’s perfume.

“V’ron’ca?” is all he manages to croak out.

“Hey.” Her voice is full of warmth and those are definitely her soothing fingers stroking his forehead. 

He sighs and relaxes into her touch. This is definitely the best fever dream he’s had yet.

“Logan, I was worried!” The hands are gone.

He--carefully this time--opens his eyes to survey Veronica. She sounds angry, and he’s so confused. She paces around his room and rants, something about his phone and how she didn’t know where he was. The light and her constant movement are too much, though, so he closes his eyes and lets himself slide back into sleep, comforted by the sound of her voice.

_____

 

This time when he wakes up, he’s surprised to discover he no longer feels like he wants to die. He stretches gingerly. His mouth is dry and his weak muscles protest. He sits up, though, and while he’s a little dizzy, the movement doesn’t make his head pound like before. 

He swings his legs over the side of the bed, slowly standing, and pads to the bathroom, only swaying slightly. After a drink of water, he keeps his hand along the wall and makes his way out to his living room.

Veronica sits on his couch, engrossed in her laptop until she catches sight of him. Then she snaps her computer closed and hops up, running over to him. It belatedly occurs to him that he’s only wearing underwear but he’s not sure he has the energy to fix the problem. It’s not like he knew he had company. At least, not that he remembers.

“Logan! I was so worried about you. Are you okay?”

Her barrage of questions continues as he carefully sinks down onto the couch. She stops talking and sits on his coffee table to stare at him. Her blue eyes are wide with concern and she reaches out and puts her hand on his forearm.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” is what he means to say. All that comes out of his mouth is a feeble croaking noise, followed by a coughing spasm that has him doubled over on the couch.

Veronica throws her arms around him and helps him lie down. She puts a pillow under his head and rests her hands on his face again. 

“I think your fever is a little better than earlier, but you still feel warm. Are you achy?”

All he can do is nod. He’s exhausted after his trip to the bathroom and living room and he can feel sleep about to overtake him again. He fights to keep his eyes open but his eyelids are too heavy.

“I’m pretty sure you have the flu, Logan.”

He lets his eyes flutter shut and Veronica strokes his cheek. 

“Are you gonna sleep for a little while?”

He’s pretty sure he nods. He thinks about nodding, at least.

She grabs the red throw blanket off the back of the couch, tucks it around him, and places a soft kiss on his forehead. She says something about medicine and soup, he thinks, and he hears her keys rattle before the sound of his door closing. His exhaustion sucks him under again before he can wonder what’s going on.

_____

Veronica wakes him up, shaking his shoulder gently. He rolls over onto his side to see her sitting on the coffee table again, facing him and holding out a spoon. She places it on his lips and he opens his mouth obediently and swallows, like a child. Mmm, soup. His throat hurts with the swallow but the soup is warm and soothing and he lets her feed him another spoonful.

There’s a wrinkle of worry between her eyes and he has so many questions he wants to ask her--”What are you doing here? How did you get in? What day is it? What the hell is going on?”--but he can’t get his head and his mouth to connect enough to form words. So he shivers and lets her cover him again with the blanket he must have thrown off in his sleep and takes another spoonful of soup when she feeds him. It’s chicken noodle, he thinks, but the noodles are small and slip down his throat easily. After a few restorative mouthfuls, he’s able to sit up. 

“Water?” he croaks.

Veronica bustles off and quickly returns with a bottle of water with a straw inside. She holds it for him while he sips. He rests his head on the back of the couch and contemplates the ceiling momentarily, then looks back to her.

“V’ronica, what…?” is all that he can manage to ask.

She gives him a small, hesitant smile. “Sorry. I was worried about you.”

Her eyes are full of emotion before she jumps up off the coffee table again and heads to the kitchen, grabbing something out of a shopping bag on the counter. 

“Do you think you can swallow this?” She holds out her palm, displaying two blue pills. “It’s just Tylenol, it will help with your fever and aches.”

He nods, takes the pills with another mouthful of water and then rests his head back on the couch. He still doesn’t understand why Veronica is in his suite, feeding him soup and taking care of him, but he decides to accept it for now and maybe puzzle it out later when his brain is not so fuzzy.

“Want me to turn on the TV for you?” 

Veronica’s question pulls him out of his staring contest with the ceiling. She’s standing over him, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

“No,” he rasps. “I’m actually gonna…” he jerks his thumb in the direction of the bathroom and slowly stands. He shuffles towards his room but sways on his feet and then she’s there, putting her arm around his waist and wrapping his over her shoulders. He’s acutely aware he’s still just wearing boxers. 

“Careful there, buddy,” she says, supporting his weight as they make their way across the room. 

“I can take it from here.” He tries to sound firm at the doorway to the bathroom but doesn’t quite pull it off. 

Veronica raises an eyebrow at him. “If you fall down and hit your head, I’m gonna have a heck of a time getting you back on the couch.”

“I won’t fall. I’ll hold on.” He steps into the bathroom and keeps his fingers on the counter, demonstrating.

She shrugs as he closes the door, clearly not convinced but not pressing further. “I’ll wait right here.”

After taking care of business, he splashes some water on his face and feels marginally better. Strictly speaking, he probably doesn’t need Veronica to help him back to the couch but he lets her anyway, deciding not to think too much about why. 

He sinks down into the cushions and she fusses over him, giving him a t-shirt to put on, a drink of water, and covering him with the blanket before settling into the other side of his sectional. She opens her laptop and just looks so damn comfortable there, he can’t figure out what’s going on. Did he, in a fever-fueled hallucinogenic moment, ask her to come over? Did he ask her to stay? He’s tired but not like earlier when he physically couldn’t stay awake. It’s time for some answers.

“Veronica.”

She startles and looks over at him like she forgot he was there.

“What are you doing here?”

She snaps her computer closed. “Do you want me to go?”

She’s not pissed, he can tell, just generally asking. 

He shakes his head no. “I just, I don’t remember everything from when I was so out of it. I don’t even know what day it is. Can you fill me in?”

He tries to reach for his bottled water, feebly, and she takes pity on him and holds it to his lips again. He’s starting to maybe understand why patients fall in love with their nurses. Although that doesn’t really apply here, since he’s never stopped loving her.

She sighs and looks down, and he thinks maybe her cheeks flush a little.

“I’m sorry, I did something…” She trails off and clears her throat. “I kind of freaked out. You’re not going to like this story.”

He lays down on the couch and pulls the blanket closer around his shoulders. “Does it have a happy ending?”

“Maybe?” She bites her lip adorably. He’s pretty sure she has no idea how cute she is when she does that.

“Tell me anyway.” He lets his eyes slide closed, listening.

“Um. After you attacked Gory, I started keeping tabs on you.” 

His eyes pop open at her words.

“Not like a tracker, or anything,” she rushes on. “Just, you know, making sure you showed up where you were supposed to and stuff. I was worried!” She stresses her excuse as she sees his incredulous look.

“And then you kinda disappeared after finals. You didn’t have your car and I called you but you didn’t pick up and then your phone was turned off so I came over and knocked on the door but there was no answer...so I used my key card to break in.”

“Not really breaking in then, I guess.” His voice is raspy and he tries to shrug philosophically but it just makes the blanket fall off his shoulders.

“I know I never should have invaded your privacy like that.” She sounds desperate, almost pleading. “I was just, I was so worried that Gory had kidnapped you or something. I couldn’t find him, either, and I just...freaked. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes brim with remorse but, like usual with Veronica, he can’t tell if she’s actually sorry about what she did or sorry that she got caught.

“And then you found me…” He waves his hand, indicating that she should continue her narrative, then tucks himself back in his blanket.

“Right.” She clears her throat. “I realized that Gory hadn’t, in fact, kidnapped you but that you were in bad shape. I figured after I went to all that trouble to break in, I should at least try and help you get better.”

He nods his head and lets his eyes close again. “Are you going to be here when I wake up?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“Yeah.”

_____

But Logan sleeps fitfully, mumbling and thrashing on the couch until Veronica comes to sit beside him. She maneuvers his head until it rests on her lap, making shushing noises, and cards her fingers through his damp hair soothingly. He curls his palm around her thigh and nuzzles into her lap sleepily, clearly unaware of his actions. 

She gulps and tries to slow her heart, suddenly racing at their close proximity. At least his restlessness seems to subside. She lets herself relax into the cushions as she breathes in his scent and rests her head on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling and wondering what the hell she is doing.

She’s playing with fire, she knows it. Things have never been anything but explosive between her and Logan. The day he attacked Gory in the cafeteria for her, she knew she couldn’t deny her feelings any longer. She broke up with Piz that night.

But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to talk to Logan. She had planned to, had even shown up outside his door. But she couldn’t muster up the courage to knock. So she kept tabs on him from afar, making sure Gory and his connections didn’t retaliate and put him in danger. 

Veronica had been distracted by her own finals, though, and lost track of him. It had taken her days to realize that she had been following Dick in Logan’s Range Rover and when she confronted him, he refused to tell her anything helpful. Then Logan didn’t answer his cell phone and she panicked. Her fear finally gave her the courage to knock on the suite door and hours later, when there was still no answer, she withdrew the keycard that she had kept in her wallet (for emergencies) and let herself in. She should have left after she found Logan in his bedroom and knew that he was okay--not kidnapped, dismembered, or beaten--but what kind of person just abandons a sick friend? 

The kind who’s playing with fire, that’s who. 

She feels Logan stir in her lap and she runs her fingers comfortingly through his hair once again. She can tell when he comes awake by the way his breathing changes. Slowly, he sits up and looks at her, confused. She runs a hand down his stubble-roughed cheek.

“Are you doing okay?”

He nods and takes another sip of water before sliding to the floor at her feet and pulling his t-shirt over his head.

“I’m so sore. Backrub?”

Thankfully he can’t see her face as she oogles his back, which is so beautiful it’s probably illegal in some states--conservative places like Wyoming or North Dakota. Tentatively, she puts her hands on his shoulders--he’s still hot to the touch--and gently rubs his muscles.

He groans, startling her, and she stops. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” He rolls his head and shoulders. “It felt really good.”

She resumes her massage and tries not to think about how much she wants to kiss the freckle on his right shoulder blade.

Logan clears his throat, breaking the silence. “I didn’t get around to actually thanking you earlier, before I fell asleep.” His voice is still creaky and rough but at least he’s not coughing like before. “You fed me soup and made sure I was okay and...thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She drops her hands from his shoulders. “Thanks for not being too mad about me keeping tabs on you and breaking into your suite.”

He shrugs, still facing away from her. “You had a key. Doesn’t really count.”

“I wasn’t sure it would work. If not, I had this whole plan--I was gonna call Ratner.”

Logan, still shirtless, moves back onto the couch next to her. “Ratner? Really?”

She stares at her hands in her lap and twists them together nervously until he puts his palm on top of them. 

“You were really worried, huh?”

“Yeah,” she confesses to her hands, still not meeting his eyes. “It was dumb, but…”

“Thanks, Veronica.” His voice creaks on her name and he grimaces, taking another sip of water.

He pulls his shirt back on, which is both a relief and a disappointment, and slowly stands. “Is there any more of that soup left?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Veronica hops up and hurries to the kitchen, cutting of Logan’s protests that he can do it, glad for a distraction and a purpose.

“I actually got you a couple kinds. You had some chicken and noodle earlier; there’s also the hot and sour that you like from the Chinese place down the road. Plus a chicken and rice gumbo when you’re feeling up for it.”

She peeks over her shoulder to see that he’s settled back down on the couch. “Chicken and noodle sounds good again. But you don’t have to...I can get it.”

Veronica turns and smirks at him. “I’m sure you could.” He’s closed his eyes and rests his head against the back of the couch again. “Tell you what, this time I’ll let you feed yourself.”

After warming it up in the microwave, she brings the bowl of soup over and sets it on his ottoman coffee table, handing him the spoon.

Logan sits up straighter, groaning. “I can’t believe I let you spoon-feed me. I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope.” She gives him a wicked grin. 

He manages a leer. “Maybe later I will need a sponge bath.”

Veronica laughs. He must be feeling better if he can joke with her. 

“This,” she gestures with her hands at the soup, “is part of the friends package. You will have to upgrade if you want the sponge bath experience.”

He drops the spoon into the bowl with a clatter, splashing soup on the ottoman, and stares at her, wide-eyed, as she realizes what she’s just said. Damn Logan Echolls and his charming banter, making her forget her boundaries and drop her guard. She decides pretending like it didn’t happen is her best bet. 

“Oh, here, let me get that,” she says as she wipes up the spilled soup. She’s not brave enough to meet his eyes.

“Seriously,” he puts his hand on her forearm, “I’m so grateful, but if you have somewhere else you have to be, I’ll be okay.” His eyes are clear--for the first time in a while--and full of sincerity.

“Nope.” She puts the dishtowel back in the kitchen and leans against the counter, facing him but putting some distance between them to keep her safe. “Nowhere to be.”

“Are you hungry? Because you can order room service if you haven’t eaten.”

“It has been a while since I’ve had the buffalo burger,” she confesses hesitantly and moves over to the phone to order. 

As they eat dinner together, she can tell that Logan’s still tired but he doesn’t seem quite so rundown. He’s definitely moving slower than normal but getting some food in him must be helping. They watch TV while they eat—The Daily Show—and trade quips back and forth. 

After he finishes he soup, Logan lifts his arm and sniffs his armpit. “Yep, it’s official. I stink. I need to go shower.”

“You know,” she is thoughtful, “my mom would never let me shower when I was sick. She made me take a bath instead. She said a bath was better in case I got tired.” She gives him a once-over, concerned. “I think you should listen.”

He huffs at her concern. “Are you going to have your ear pressed to the door in case I need help?”

“Maybe.” She holds her hand up preemptively before he can say anything. “But no more quips about sponge baths.” 

He smiles, his adorable lopsided grin stretching across his face, and Veronica’s stomach does a flip. Even sick, sweaty, and yeah, slightly ripe, he’s still absolutely gorgeous.

“Okay, I’ll be good.”

He slowly stands and makes his way to the bathroom, waving off her offers to help him. He does seem a little steadier on his feet this time so she lets him go and settles back down onto the couch with her laptop.

She runs some background checks for her dad--all deeply boring--and listens to the water run in the background. She loses herself in her work, the soothing monotony of efficiency, and it doesn’t dawn on her until much later that all sounds from the bathroom have ceased.

She snaps her laptop closed and jumps up off the couch, moving into Logan’s bedroom to stand in front of his bathroom door. Still quiet. She doesn’t want to disturb his privacy (again) but…

She knocks softly. “Logan?” 

No answer.

She opens the door a crack and covers her eyes with her hand, just in case.

“Logan?” she calls again. 

Silence.

She removes her hand--desperate times and all that--and peeks her head into the bathroom to see Logan, asleep with his head lolling against the back of his large corner tub.

She grabs a towel off the back of the door and moves into the room. She tries not to look into the bathtub as she kneels down and gently shakes Logan’s shoulder.

“Hey, Logan, you fell asleep.”

“Veronica? What the--?”

She stands and holds the towel in front of her like a shield, blocking her view of Logan, rivulets of water running down his body, as he stands. 

“Sorry, you can just grab the towel.” 

She turns her head away and squeezes her eye closed as she hands it off. 

“I’ll just--” She tries to back out of the bathroom without looking but runs into the counter.

“Shit!” Her eyes fly open as she crashes backwards and her hands fly out. Logan grabs her arms, pulling her to him and stabilizing her. At least he’s managed to knot the towel around his waist. 

She’s acutely aware of his proximity--and her hands bracing herself on his bare chest. She gulps and her eyes are drawn up to his, as if by a magnet. She’s not sure what emotion she sees there, but it scares her. She takes a step back and bites her lip. Her cheeks feel hot and she’s sure she’s blushing.

“I really didn’t mean to invade your privacy, Logan, I was just worried,” she stammers out, gripping the bathroom counter behind her until her fingers hurt. “That seems to be my theme lately. I guess you were pretty tired, so I’m just gonna…”

She turns and bolts through the doorway, standing in the middle of Logan’s bedroom while her heart races and she tries to compose herself. She can feel him come stand behind her. 

“Hey, don’t leave, okay? Let me throw on some clothes quick.” 

When she turns to check on him, he looks worried and she can tell he must still be feeling a little weak because he leans heavily against his dresser. 

She takes in his rumpled bed and makes up her mind with a decisive nod. There’s at least one more thing she can do for him before she goes.

After the door shuts behind her, she grabs the room phone, making a quick call to the front desk. Moments later, Logan sinks back down onto the couch, clad now in a plain white t-shirt and grey jersey pants. He is pale and his eyes glitter too brightly.

She puts her hand on his forehead. “You don’t look so hot again. Or maybe, too hot. I think you overdid it a little and your fever’s back.”

He nods miserably. 

“Let me get you some medicine and then you’re going straight to bed.”

Before she can grab the Tylenol from the kitchen counter, Logan grabs her wrist, encircling it with his fingers. 

“I know I’m being needy but...don’t go yet, okay?” 

He does seem needy, but, surprisingly, it doesn’t bother her. Veronica nods her head at him and realizes that she’s enjoying feeling useful.

She brings him two little blue pills and a bottle of water from the kitchen and watches his Adam’s apple bob while he swallows obediently. Before she can sit back down on the couch, there’s a knock at the door.

Logan looks confused as she rushes over to answer it and comes back with a stack of clean linens.

“I always loved it when my mom would put fresh sheets on my bed,” she explains. “I figured Housekeeping would let me do their job this once.” 

He tries to get up and follow her into his bedroom but she can tell that it requires more effort on his part than normal. 

“No, no, sit back down. Turn on the TV or something. I’ve got this.”

Veronica heads into his bedroom and is pleased to hear the sounds of the TV emanate from the living room. She efficiently strips Logan’s bed and changes the sheets before going back out to him. But he’s already asleep on the couch, The Colbert Report playing in the background.

She checks her watch. It’s getting late and she really does think he’ll sleep better if he’s in his bed. With a sigh, she prods his shoulder.

“Sleeping Beauty. Let’s get you into bed.”

Logan’s eyes flutter open and he mumbles something unintelligible. She helps him to his feet and drapes his arm over her shoulders as she maneuvers him into his room. His skin feels hot through his thin t-shirt and she hopes the Tylenol kicks in soon.

Pulling back the sheets for him, Veronica helps Logan into his bed. She tucks him in and tries to sneak out but he grabs her arm before she can leave. His eyes are glazed and unfocused but his grip is strong. 

“Don’t go.” He tugs her onto the bed with him and settles his head in her lap before she can protest.

“But…”

He’s mumbling almost incoherently now, and she’s not sure if he’s entirely awake or aware of what he’s saying.

“You’re gonna leave me...Piz...the FBI…” He thrashes a bit on her lap and she places a gentling hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, Logan, no, it’s okay.” Veronica sighs deeply. Maybe it’s easier to be honest if there’s a chance he won’t remember this fevered conversation in the morning. “There’s no Piz anymore, no FBI, either. I have nowhere else to be.” 

She pauses, debating, and then amends her statement. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

He turns in her lap now so he’s staring up at her. “Really?”

Veronica’s surprised that her reasurances penetrated his fever-haze. She nods, looking down at him. “Really. My dad’s out of town so it’s fine. I can stay as long as you need me.”

Logan’s hands tighten around her waist. “You keep the bad dreams away.”

His fever must be worse than she thought. She’s tempted to make a quip about giving him a stuffed animal or a blankie but he’s probably too out of it to appreciate her humor. 

Instead, Veronica runs her hands soothingly through his hair. She’s had her fair share of nightmares in the past four years and she knows he has plenty of demons that used to haunt his sleep; she’s not surprised to learn that he still struggles with nightmares, too.

“I love you, Veronica,” he murmurs into her stomach. 

Logan’s fevered declaration should make her want to leave, to run as far away from him as possible. But it doesn’t. It actually feels...pretty awesome. She settles herself more comfortably underneath him and places a gentle kiss on his sweaty forehead. 

“I’ll stay.”

——-

The next morning, Logan stumbles out of bed to the living room to find Veronica, wearing a pair of his plaid boxers and his softest grey Hearst t-shirt, tapping her fingers on the counter in front of the coffee machine. 

She looks up at him, eyes soft. 

“Hey, how you feeling?”

He nods his head and rolls his shoulders experimentally. “Better, I think. Maybe ready for real food. What day is it?”

She laughs, clear and pure, and he can’t help the smile that tugs up his lips at the sound. 

“You’ve been pretty out of it. It’s Wednesday.”

He does some mental calculations. “But, wait—I finished my finals on Thursday. I thought maybe it was Sunday.” He’s incredulous. “Did I really lose a week?”

Veronica takes her cup of coffee and settles into his couch. “The flu, man. It’s rough.”

“Have you—did you stay with me this whole time?”

He can’t quite wrap his mind around everything, especially that Veronica cared enough to stay and take care of him for days on end. 

She stares at her bare feet, toenails painted red and propped up on the coffee table. Her response is so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it. 

“I’ve been here since Sunday.” 

Logan moves to the spot beside her on the couch. He takes her coffee mug and sits it down so he can grab her hands. 

“So when you said I was out of your life forever…”

“I maybe exaggerated a bit,” she mumbles, still not meeting his eyes. 

“I’m glad to hear it.” He squeezes her fingers. “I don’t think I could stand that.”

Veronica looks at him now, and it’s the most vulnerable he’s seen her face in a long time. 

“I don’t think I could, either. I was upset and,” she takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

They sit quietly while Logan runs his fingers over her knuckles, caressing her hand. 

Eventually she sighs, breaking the moment and pulling her hand out of his grasp. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I should probably go. I mean, I’m starting to run out of clothes,” she gestures down her body at her stolen pajamas, “and nobody wants that.”

He swallows audibly and is proud of himself for not arguing and pointing out that of course he wants her naked. 

Instead, he clears his throat. “Let me at least order you breakfast.”

She looks torn but finally nods her assent.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks. I’ll have the one with the French toast and bacon if you wanna order while I…” She jerks her thumb in the direction of his bathroom and grabs her backpack off the floor. 

“Oh, you can use Dick’s bathroom, if you want. It’s not like it’s really his anymore. It’s been cleaned.” He can’t seem to stop rambling. The awkward words keep tumbling out of his mouth. “Not that I mind sharing. It’s just, if you want your own space or something; it’s fine with me either way, of course—”

She finally cuts off his verbal flow by popping her head out of the doorway. 

“Yeah, I actually thought about sleeping in his bed,” she shudders, “but even with clean sheets, I couldn’t get over the fact that it had been Dick’s bed. And the couch is comfy.”

She shrugs and disappears back into his bathroom while he sighs and runs his hand through his hair. 

Great, he thinks. If he can’t get ahold of himself, Veronica is going to totally be able to tell that he’s still in love with her. He’s falling all over himself like a middle school girl with a crush. He takes a deep breath and tries to regain some self-possession. The fact that she’s here, that she’s his friend who cares about him, that’s enough. 

After ordering breakfast, he’s repeating this mantra over and over again in his head when she comes back out into the living room. 

“So what are your plans for the summer?”

Veronica eyes him quizzically. “Um. We talked about this last night but I’m betting you don’t remember?”

Logan thinks back but his memories of the last few days are fuzzy at best. “I remember soup. You brought me soup.” He gasps as something else occurs to him. “And you tried to look at me naked in the bathtub!” 

She chuckles. “I promise that’s not what happened. But yes, I did bring you soup.” She sets her backpack down beside the couch and flops onto it. “And last night I explained that I’m not dating Piz and I’m not doing an internship with the FBI.” 

She sounds patient, like she’s explaining this to a small child. But if they’ve had this conversation already, maybe that’s how she feels.

Then it strikes him that she didn’t have to mention that she’s not dating anyone, strictly speaking. But she did anyway. Interesting.

“Oh,” is all he gets out before there is a knock on the door.

He answers the door, rolling in the room service cart, and gestures for her to help herself. She takes her plates off the cart, balancing them on her lap and the coffee table, and digs in with gusto.

He had ordered himself a veggie omelet, thinking it would be a good alternative to soup. It smells divine.

“What are you doing this summer?” Veronica asks around a mouthful of French toast.

He shrugs and swallows before answering. “Surfing. Reading. Maybe a road trip up the coast.”

After another bite he asks, “What happened between you and Piz?”

Veronica’s fork clatters onto her plate and she looks as shocked as he feels at his question. How on earth did that come out of his mouth? 

He slaps his hand to his forehead. “Uh-oh, fever must be back. Please disregard previous inappropriate question. It’s the flu talking, obviously.”

She laughs uncomfortably and still looks a little taken aback. After a sip of coffee, she says, “Actually, I don’t mind telling you.”

She clears her throat and sets the mug down. “It wasn’t your fault, after that day in the cafeteria...but that was kinda the catalyst.”

“Oh, shit, Veronica, I shouldn’t have asked. It’s none of my business. You don’t have to--”

“I know,” she cuts him off. “But I feel like I owe you a little bit of the truth.”

He huffs a tiny laugh, because if that isn’t a true testament to her character, he doesn’t know what is. Veronica, only dolling out little bits of truth at a time, just as much as she needs to reveal to keep people coming back. 

“Piz pointed out that my feelings for you, well,” she cuts a corner bite off her French toast and pops it in her mouth, avoiding his eyes, “Well, that maybe you and I weren’t exactly to a platonic place yet.”

“Oh.” 

He feels dizzy again and wonders if his fever really is coming back. Is this a dream? A fever hallucination? Or is Veronica actually talking to him about something real?

“Yeah, maybe,” he says softly, wondering if he should put his head between his knees.

His eyes focus on her and she’s chewing her French toast again. 

“Wait, my feelings or yours?” he asks.

She swallows and then stands up, taking her coffee cup over to the espresso machine for a refill and fiddling with the settings. The silence stretches on for so long that he doesn’t think she is going to answer, until she sits back down. He notices absently that she forgot her coffee.

“He didn’t specify. But last night you told me you loved me. In a fever haze, to be fair. And I didn’t want to run screaming for the hills. So maybe Piz actually had an insightful moment.”

She’s staring at him, jaw clenched tightly, and he can tell how hard this is for her--actually opening up and being honest. He knows what it costs her. She could have run away, could have slipped out last night or this morning and he never would have been the wiser. 

But she didn’t. She stayed and she brought it up and yeah, she might not say it back, but he’s learned to hear what she doesn’t say. 

He gulps and grabs her hand. “I’m pretty sure it was the flu talking. But it wasn’t a lie.”

“Hey, Logan?” She smiles softly and he raises his eyebrows, indicating that he’s listening.

“I’m really glad you got the flu.”

“Me, too, Bobcat. Me, too.” 

He slides his arm around her and pulls her to him, breathing in the scent of her hair and kissing the top of her head. Yeah, it’s not a big romantic kiss, but he doesn’t want to get her sick, after all. He can settle for just holding her close and knowing that she’s here to stay. There will be plenty of time for kisses later. They’re not going anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> It is kind of scary to post something that's un-beta-d so please be kind to this very rough draft. I don't doubt that I put paragraph breaks in all the wrong places and used the wrong voice or tense at least once. Probably multiple times! It all goes to show that betas are truly invaluable!


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